Gravity
by sehellys
Summary: Before Thranduil will even consider sending Legolas on patrols he wants the young prince to learn at least the basics of the healing arts from the best, Lord Elrond. But while on a simple excursion in Rivendell Legolas soon finds himself in a situation that will test both his healing and fighting abilities.
1. Prologue

**Summary:** Before Thranduil will even consider sending Legolas on patrols he wants the young prince to learn at least the basics of the healing arts from the best, Lord Elrond. But while on a simple excursion in Rivendell Legolas soon finds himself in a situation that will test both his healing and fighting abilities.

 **Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:** I was in the middle of writing another story when I was attacked by a particularly vicious plot bunny, which made me write this. (I, therefore, deny all responsibility) The story is a work in progress and I'm having a bit of problems with the later chapters at the moment, so I thought I'd go ahead and post the beginning. Maybe feedback will give me the necessary boost to write the next chapters. So pretty (pretty) please tell me what you think? :)  
I will try to update weekly though.

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Prologue**

Legolas ran towards the cliff side, fearing the worst. The relief that flooded through him when he saw the younger twin, leaning heavily against the cliff but on his own two feet, was almost enough to send him to his knees.

He caught his breath, mustering Elrohir. The black haired elf was covered in bruises, a large gash on his forehead was bleeding freely and he was obviously relying on the wall at his side for the mere task of staying upright. "You look horrible", he commented with a levity he didn't really feel.

"The ellyths' songs about your beauty are also… vastly … exaggerated." The twin shot back, his comeback ruined by the difficulty he had with drawing breath and the lopsided grin he was aiming for turned into a grimace of pain. His breathing came in ragged gasps now, growing worse by the second.

Then, without warning, the twin doubled over as a heavy coughing fit overtook him and brought him to his knees. Legolas was at his side in an instant.

Carefully the younger elf took Elrohir by his shoulders, gently coaxing the strained body to relax and lean back against him to open up his airways and allow for easier breathing.

"Easy", he whispered with a calmness that he didn't feel. Eventually Elrohir leaned back, relaxing into the arms that now held him. Legolas was petrified to see the small trickle of blood running down from the other elf's lips to his chin. He watched, mesmerized but with growing dread, as one drop of the precious liquid fell to the dusty stone ground beneath them.

This was not good.

He had barely started his healer's training with Lord Elrond, but he had seen enough of his realm's warriors return from patrols turned bad, to recognize a grievous injury.

Trying for levity again, knowing that the twins, too, defaulted to joking in times of turmoil he mumbled. "Elladan is going to kill me."

But Elrohir didn't seem to hear him any longer. "Elladan", the younger twin said, as if repeating the familiar name, holding on to it as to a lifeline.

"No", Legolas responded, feeling despair claw at his heart, "Elladan is not here. It is just I, Legolas."

"Elladan", the younger twin repeated again, regardless. The name was but a soft whisper on his deathly pale lips, tinged red with his own blood. Then the younger twin's eyes slid shut and his body went limp in Legolas' arms.

The young elf cradled the body of his friend tighter, "No", he gasped, "Elrohir!" He buried his face in the twin's hair and wept.

-o0o-

 _tbc_


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:** Many, many thanks to the wonderful people who left reviews and thanks to those of you who favourited or followed this story. It's nice to know that some of you are interested in seeing where the story goes :)  
This new chapter hopefully gives a bit more explanations and a first glimpse of the rescue party. I hope you'll like it, and would love to hear from you!

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 1**

The candles on the shelves by the wall burned brightly, bathing the room in a yellow light that supplemented the weak rays of daylight as they flittered in through the high window. The room was deep within the heart of the last Homely House, a room to assign patrols and discuss the valley's defences - for although Rivendell had been founded as a haven, it had been built during the war. And it could not hope to offer protection if it wasn't able to defend itself.

Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrond were standing around a map of the Hidden Valley, trying to monitor the advancement of the orc groups that the twins had spotted outside the borders of Rivendell a few hours ago. They would need to decide on the best deployment and dispersion of border patrols, making sure that their guards stayed safe even if faced with the enemy.

"I suggest we reinforce the patrol at the south-western border", Glorfindel was saying, his hand resting on the map where the patrol outpost would be.

"I agree" Elladan was saying "That is closest to where Elrohir and I –"

The older twin broke off abruptly as all colour drained from his face. He reached a hand up to his chest where an intense pain suddenly sparked to life. As soon as it had come it faded to a dull throb.

"Elladan?" his father looked at him in concern. "What it is, son?"

'Elladan', it was less than a whisper carried on the wind, but Elladan knew he'd heard it, could feel the pain and despair in the one word.

Elrohir was in danger!

The older twin straightened, and resolutely placed a finger on the map, pointing to an area not far from the banks of the Bruinen. The place he knew his brother and Legolas had been heading to when they left Rivendell earlier.

He looked up at Glorfindel, no sign of pain or hesitation in his gaze now. "We will need at least five guards, to ride out as soon as possible."

He then turned to his father. "Adar, I think it best if you came, too." His gaze was grim as he took a deep breath and said out loud what the two older elves already dreaded to hear.

"It is Elrohir. Something happened, something bad."

-o0o-

Earlier that day

 _The morning dawned bright and clear. After the heavy storms of the last few days it made for a welcome change and promised a sunny day._

 _Legolas stretched his tired arms and rose. It had been a long day in the infirmary yesterday and he dearly hoped that today would not be spend preparing as many poultices and potions._

 _His father had sent him to Rivendell to receive additional training in healing. The healers in Greenwood were good but nobody in Middle Earth could hope to compare to the_ _L_ _ord of Imladris, and Thranduil was glad for the chance to have Legolas learn the most essential healing skills in the Hidden Valley. The knowledge might one day mean the difference between life and death, especially once Legolas would start riding out on patrols in the ever darkening forest._

 _Legolas had arrived less than a fortnight ago and had spent most of his days in the infirmary, helping to prepare different salves and healing supplies. The knowledge, Elrond argued, would teach him both the correct plants used in healing as well as the use of the finished poultices._

 _Legolas knew that he was right, already he could name the ingredients in a fire balm or recite the uses and dangers of evergreen. But his arms ached with the force he needed to use to grind the plants, roots and leaves into a fine paste and his fingers itched for more practical lessons. Or maybe just the need for fresh air._

 _He missed the trees of his home that would greet him in the mornings with soft songs of sunlight and hope. Here the trees were carefree and welcoming as well, but they did not have the same feel to them as the ones from his home. These trees did not talk to him, or accept them as one of their own._

 _Not yet._

 _A small smile rushed over Legolas' face as he decided what he would do this morning. There was still time before the morning meal and he would not be spending it indoors preparing for his lessons._

 _With his mind made up he rushed to get into his leggings and tunic and was out of the door in the blink of an eye, blond hair streaming behind him as he bounded through the corridors. He rushed past one of the twins in the corridor, barely stopping for a greeting and not even slowing down enough to find out which of the two sons of Elrond it had been._

 _Elladan just looked after him, a smile on his lips. He knew exactly were the young wood elf was off to._

 _A few more leaps down the large stairs in the main hall of the Last Homely House and Legolas was out the door. He rushed over the lush green grass and straight towards the old stately oak that grew at the corner of the yard. It would make a good starting point._

 _Nimble as the woodelf he was, he climbed the tree and nestled into the gentle embrace of its branches. Singing softly to the oak he set out to make a new acquaintance._

 _From above at the window Elladan smiled at the display. He had returned to the comfortable study that joined his room to that of his twin and was now gazing out the window just as Elrohir entered the room as well._

 _He turned to Elrohir who was gazing at him questioningly. "I think we need to find the elfling something to do."_

 _Elrohir joined his twin at the window, understanding dawning on his face as his gaze fell on Legolas, nestled in the trees. They had both noticed the increased tension in the younger elf, his building desperation to be outside of the confines of the healing wing. He nodded, "I think you are right. Though he would not thank you for calling him 'elfling'."_

 _Elladan merely grinned. His twin was right of course, Legolas had officially already reached his majority and was no longer the small elfling who had charmed them when they had last visited the Greenwood. But old habits die hard and Elladan enjoyed riling the young ellon with his well-meaning banter._

 _The mood shifted as Elrohir turned his twin's attention away from the window. "We should talk to Adar."_

 _Elladan nodded grimly. The sight of Legolas running outside with such obvious joy had distracted him from the report he and Elrohir had been supposed to deliver. But now was not the time to be distracted._

 _Danger approached Rivendell._

 _-o0o-_

The night before

 _The ground was wet under their feet, drenched with the rain of the last days, turning stones dangerously slick and earth to mud._

 _It made their approach more difficult._

 _The ground squished softly under their light elven steps, not the squelching noise that the heavy metal-clad shoes of the orcs were making, but nevertheless it increased the risk of being discovered. The still falling rain would probably hide all sound, and if not, the noise caused by their quarry, the orcs themselves, certainly should, but it always paid to be careful._

 _They had been tracking this group of orcs for the better part of the night, coming across their trail early last evening. The overhung sky had clearly allowed the foul beasts to set forth on their journey well before sunset. In the softened ground the prints left behind were deep and raw, like small wounds in the earth that were filling with rainwater as if it were tears._

 _Now they were finally close enough to assess the real size of the band. The steps left behind, the wild disarray and the damage done to flora and fauna in the wake of the orcs had already told them it would be a big group. What they saw, however, was worse than they'd expected._

 _As Ithil sank closer toward the horizon, its silver rays glistened off the dirty, ragged edges of countless scimitars and crude spears. Elladan and Elrohir felt their hearts sink. There was easily three scores of the foul beasts on the fields. They were setting up camp, some scurrying off into the nearby undergrowth to collect firewood while others plopped down on the muddy ground, ignoring the cold soggy state of the campsite in favour of resting weary feet._

 _At least it meant they wouldn't be making any more progress this night, though if the weather remained in their favour they could well set out again in the early morning tomorrow. And their path would lead them straight towards Rivendell's borders._

 _Silent as wraiths the twins moved back from the glade that held the dark beings. It was too risky staying close, especially with orcs splitting up from the main group to establish a perimeter and collect game and firewood._

 _Elrohir winced at the thought of the destruction the orcs were sure to cause the land._

" _We will have to report this to Glorfindel immediately." Elladan said and Elrohir found himself nodding. They would have no time to lose. While it was unlikely that the orcs could find an entrance to the Hidden Valley, a group this big would cause serious trouble to any border patrol, or any human settlement in their path._

 _They returned to their horses which they had left a safe distance away, hidden in the depth of the forest, and hastened back to Rivendell. By the time they reached the stone courtyard in front of the Last Homely House the night was almost spent. Thin fingers of light turned the horizon below the heavy layer of clouds a dusty pink and heralded the arrival of Arnor._

 _They left their horses in the capable care of the stable hands, who were surprised to see them back so early from their reconnaissance._

 _The twins continued towards the house, taking the front steps two at a time in their haste to relay their information. Behind the large double doors they came to a stop as they came face to face with Glorfindel. The seneschal of their father had always been an early riser, preferring to organize patrol assignments and training schedules before he started the training of the younger recruits._

 _Glorfindel looked at them. Despite the mud that clung to their rain-drenched clothes and the dimness of the early morning hours he had no trouble to see the urgency that underlay their sudden appearance. There was a reason the twins had ridden through the night to get here and had braved the horrid weather outside._

 _He looked at them expectantly, waiting for either to speak._

" _Glorfindel", Elladan said, "we have discovered a band of orcs, heading straight for Imladris."_

 _Glorfindel's face was grim at the news, "Orcs? How many?"_

" _At least sixty, possibly more."_

 _Already running through the necessary precautions and arrangements they would have to make, Glorfindel asked one more question. "How far away?"_

 _It was Elrohir who answered this time, seamlessly taking over from his brother. "At least a day's march. When we left them nigh three hours ago they were setting up camp. I do not think they have moved further this night."_

 _Glorfindel nodded. He thought about it quickly, then, giving the twins and their appearance another glance he came to a decision. "Find yourselves some dry clothes and breakfast. I will awaken your father and we will meet you in the Hall of Maps." With that he dismissed the twin sons of Elrond and turned down the corridor._

 _The twins, too, turned and did as he had asked them to._

-o0o-

"Ion nin", Elrond reached out to place a hand on his first-born son's shoulder and halted him in his tracks. "Is there anything you can tell me? Anything specific?"

Elladan averted his gaze and shook his head slightly. "All I know is that he was in considerable pain. He tried to keep most of it from me but his control slipped. And now", he looked up then and Elrond's heart nearly broke at the look of utter despair in Elladan's eyes. "Now, I cannot feel him anymore." It was only a whisper, the words too dreadful to be spoken out loud, but they ripped through the tranquillity of the halls like a hurricane regardless.

Elrond's eyes hardened with determination. "Let us make haste."

Together father and son left the building, both now dressed in functional garb for a ride through the wild. Elladan clutching his sword, while Elrond held onto his healing supplies as if for dear life. He only hoped that he would get to use them - that they wouldn't arrive too late. The thought of Legolas, also out there and doubtlessly close to whatever danger Elrohir had found, flickered through his mind and he prayed to Illuvatar that the young woodelf would be alright.

At least, thanks to the bond the twins shared, they would be able to act quickly, hopefully quick enough to prevent any further harm to his son and the heir of Greenwood.

Glorfindel was already waiting for them. He had called six of the warriors guarding the Last Homely House and they had quickly and efficiently gotten ready to leave. Elladan's and Elrond's horses were already prepared, ready to ride out, and were prancing nervously next to Glorfindel's white steed. They were eager to leave, clearly sensing the restlessness in the air.

The two elves mounted quickly and with softly spoken words of encouragement to their steeds set out on their search.

-o0o-

 _tbc…_


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:** Many thanks to my wonderful beta-reader frannysnow.

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 2**

Legolas' head shot up as Elrohir's breath hitched. For a horrible second that seemed to stretch into eternity cold dread grasped his heart in an iron grip. Then the younger twin drew a new, shuddering breath.

Elrohir's breathing had been laboured, shallow and interrupted by terrifying coughing fits, as damaged lungs desperately tried to clear blood and liquid to allow them to keep functioning. They were fighting a losing battle.

But, for the moment at least, Elrohir was still drawing breath, still clinging to life, and Legolas would not let that go to waste. With newfound determination he carefully settled the twin off his lap and onto the ground. He racked his brain, furiously trying to remember something, anything, from his recent studies that would help. They had not yet even discussed injuries in any detail, and certainly not something as rare as a damaged lung that resulted from a fall off a cliff.

They had mostly studied herbs.

Herbs! Legolas was thinking, furiously, maybe the answer lay there. But what herbs would help? A tea of the willow bark could fight inflammation and reduce pain, but Legolas had no means to boil water nor, for that matter, knew how to make the injured twin drink a tea while unconscious.

The extract of cloves from the Sea of Rhûn was a local anaesthetic, but without knowing where Elrohir's pain was centred, that would help him little. Legolas sighed in frustration. All those hours of rigorous lessons and still he did not know anything that would help his friend.

He hit the ground in frustration. Was there nothing he could do?

Legolas decided to switch his focus from what he knew would be effective to what he actually had on hand.

It wasn't much.

The small pack of healing supplies that Elrohir had carried had clearly been lost when the cliff had collapsed under him, possibly buried somewhere beneath the rocks, and Legolas' own supplies were much more limited.

With haste born from desperation Legolas tore through the small bag's contents, trying to remember what the little packages inside were and what good they might do. It was a standard healer's kit, like the one Elrond had given him for training on his very first day of teachings. The elf lord had explained that every warrior on patrol carried a pack such as this, containing the most commonly needed herbs and ointments as well as an assortment of clean linen bandages. Knowing what it contained and how to use it was of vital importance and Elrond had stressed that his father would not let him leave on a patrol of the forest unless he learned both.

Behind him Elrohir broke out in another harsh coughing fit and Legolas' hands tightened around the small pack in his hands as he desperately waited for the older elf to stop, to draw another, if shaky, breath.

When he did it was a rough, painful sound that tore at Legolas' heart. He did not even turn around as he realized he could no longer stand the deathly pale look of Elrohir's face, or the steady drip of his blood as it flowed from the cut on his forehead, the colour a stark contrast to the ghostly white of his skin.

For all that he tried to tell himself otherwise, Legolas knew that the younger twin was dying.

Hanging his head in despair at the admission, Legolas fought the tears that threatened to surface again. But what could he do? They were completely alone at the banks of the Bruinen, the rushing water easily drowning out all cries for help that he could have shouted. No one would have heard them anyway. They were a good hour's march from Rivendell, without horses and without back-up.

Despair clung to him like a dark shadow, its smoky tendrils encircling his heart and smothering his hope. There was nothing he could do.

He had no way to get Elrohir back to Rivendell and into Lord Elrond's care. And though he might have been able to run for help, that would mean leaving Elrohir behind and he could not bring himself to do that. His heart trembled at the thought of what he would return to here at the River Path after he had summoned help from Rivendell.

Elrohir drew another shaky breath and Legolas finally looked up and turned back to the twin.

He was still alive.

Elrohir still clung to life and as long as he did, Legolas would not give up hope, could not give up hope. Looking at the small sachet of herbs that he still grasped tightly in his hands, Legolas suddenly recognized the plant.

Athelas.

Hastily he opened the small paper package and let the dried leaves fall into his open palm. As he crushed two of the leaves between his fingers a sweet smell filled the air, like the soft breeze on a spring morning that carried the scent of freshly blooming flowers. Suddenly the light seemed to shine a bit brighter, piercing through the thick layers of clouds. Its rays warmed Legolas' back and for a moment drove out the dark fear that had ensnared his thoughts.

Elrohir's breaths deepened. The horrible rattling sound in his lungs disappeared as the scent of the kingsfoil relaxed strained muscles and soothed the pain. And for the first time since that horrible moment when the ground had given way underneath Elrohir's feet Legolas allowed himself a deep breath as well.

Suddenly Elrohir gasped and knit his eyebrows together as consciousness returned with an onslaught of pain. Legolas was at his side in an instant.

"Elrohir", he said, a note of pleading in his voice. He desperately hoped for the twin to awaken, even though he knew that it was a selfish request. Elrohir would be in pain, pain that he did not have the skill or knowledge to lessen. And yet, Legolas clung to the notion that as long as Elrohir was awake, he would not suddenly stop breathing, if he was awake, Legolas would not feel quite so helpless and alone.

Pain filled grey eyes met his as Elrohir opened his eyes. Legolas gently placed one hand on the twin's shoulder to make sure he wouldn't try to rise, but it was a pointless fear: Elrohir barely had the strength to keep his eyelids open.

"Elrohir", Legolas repeated. He had to suppress the shaking in his voice as he continued, "I, I don't know what to do."

The younger twin closed his eyes and for a frightening moment Legolas thought he would have fallen unconscious again. Then Elrohir reopened his eyes and, to Legolas' surprise, a faint smile touched his bloodied lips.

"Elladan is coming." Elrohir said. It was an assertion; there was no hint of doubt or any sign of desperate hope in his voice.

Elrohir's conviction that his twin would find them was absolute.

Legolas wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He desperately hoped for some kind of miracle, though the rational side of him reminded him that no one would be looking for them for hours to come. And even if they did, no one would find them anytime soon.

He crushed two more leaves of the athelas but this time the sweet fragrance did little to brighten his mood. Desolation settled back over the stony path as he gently lifted Elrohir's head back in his lap, cradling the injured twin tighter.

A look of pain crossed Elrohir's face at the sudden movement and his eyes flickered open again, looking up at the woodelf's face above him. He tried to lift his hand to offer some sort of comfort to the young elf but found he lacked the strength to do so. "Just wait", he said, breathing more heavily again, now that the scent of athelas was fading away, "wait… for Elladan."

Suddenly Legolas wished he would have spent the day in the healing halls training the boring composition of different potions or learning about the poison of various animals in Eriador and Rhovannion. This was a much too practical lesson in healing skills, skills that he did not yet have. He let his head hang in despair again, was all he could do really just wait here for the arrival of Elladan? How would the older twin even know where to look for them, or that his twin needed him at all?

It seemed like a desperate hope to Legolas, but what else did he have? Apart from wishing they never would have left on this outing to begin with.

-o0o-

earlier that day

 _The twins were hurrying down the stairs that Legolas had rushed down in excitement just a few minutes ago_ _._ _But there was little of his happy mood in their purpose, already they could hear their father and Glorfindel downstairs, discussing the consequences and implications of an orc force advancing on their borders. As the twins reached the bottom flight of stairs, they could see Erestor hurrying to reach their father's side as well._

" _Hir nin", the chief advisor of Rivendell said. "There have been some reports that the River Path may have been blocked by a rockslide last night. It seems the rain of the recent days has weakened the cliff face there."_

 _Elrond looked thoughtful at the news. Rivendell had been built as a haven, a stronghold to defend and protect those that sought aid. And even though the valley was hidden from unfriendly eyes, it was always open to those who came looking for rest and respite. If the River Path was truly blocked they would have to send a group of elves to reopen it._

 _But with the orcs approaching their home maybe it was a stroke of luck that the most direct route into the Hidden Valley had been obstructed. Could he keep the entrance closed until they had weathered this storm? Or was he dooming innocent people in the surrounding villages to a dreadful fate if he left their possible path to relative safety sealed?_

" _How bad is it?" he asked._

 _But Erestor just shook his head. "I cannot say. At the moment it is merely a possibility. Amrathion reported heavy tremors in the region but he could not be certain about their source."_

 _Elrond's eyebrows knit together in thought. With preciously little information it was hard to come to a decision about what needed to be done. And the matter of the orcs pressed on his mind, demanding more immediate attention._

 _Elrohir's voice broke through his thoughts. "I can scout the cliffs", he said, "and report back with a more accurate estimation of the damage." He turned to Glorfindel, anticipating the other's comments ere the elven lord had a chance to speak. "Elladan can tell you everything about the orc band, I would be of no additional use."_

 _It was true the older twin tended to attend more meetings with Glorfindel to discuss the placement of outposts or the deployment of patrols, while Elrohir saw to the training of the newer recruits. As such Elladan was more familiar with the defensive perimeter of the Hidden Valley anyway._

 _But Elrond looked thoughtful, his sons had only just returned from their scouting mission, and had not yet slept. The father in him had hoped that they could have delivered their report, expressed their opinion about what course of action to take and would then retire to bed like the elflings they no longer were._

 _It was a vain hope, of course. Elrond knew that his sons were accomplished warriors, the ranks in Rivendell's forces that Glorfindel had bestowed upon them a result of hard training and determination to protect their home, rather than of their ancestry. And still it was hard sometimes to accept that he could no longer send them to their rooms when danger lurked._

 _But it was not a long distance to the River Path and there was no indication that any danger would be found there. Just because he would wish for his sons to rest did not mean that they would heed his advice even if he should request it. And it was a logical choice, he had to admit. The part of him that was the lord of Rivendell saw that clearly. And despite the long night the twins had had, Elrohir showed no signs of requiring rest._

 _And still … a small, unexplainable doubt remained, like a feeling of foreboding telling him that this mission, simple as it seemed, would not end well._

" _Maybe you could take Legolas with you." Elladan was saying, interrupting his father's thoughts and stopping Elrond from further analysing the feeling of unease that seemed to accompany any thought of the cliffs of the River Path._

" _Yes." Elrond nodded in agreement. The thought of Legolas accompanying his son seemed to ease his worries, though he could not explain why. It also solved the problem of the young elf's teachings that would have needed to be delayed for their meeting. "I will have to cancel his lessons for today in either case. Take him with you to the cliffs. But", he couldn't help but add, "be careful."_

 _Elrohir gave his father a curt nod, acknowledging the request. Then, with a smile for his twin and a short "I will see you later." He turned around and left._

-o0o-

 _tbc…_

 _o00o_

 **A/N:** And finally we are back with Legolas and Elrohir once more, though I guess things do not look too good (sorry!). We also have one more flashback to go until I can finally tell you just how Elrohir ended up at the bottom of that cliff, but that will be in the next chapter - something to look forward to? ;)

Many, many thanks to the wonderful Lady Lindariel, sian22, Pip the Dark Lord of All and Lord Illyren for their reviews for the last chapter. You are the best!  
Thanks also to the people who have favourited this story or added it to their story alert lists.

I would love to hear what you thought about the new chapter!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 3**

 _Legolas had his eyes closed, focusing his attention on the tree, whose branch he was sitting on. He could hear the soft whisper of the oak's melody as it brushed against his mind. First calm and quiet, then brighter and more vivid as it noticed his presence and welcomed him into its embrace._

 _Communicating with trees was never straightforward but Legolas did not mind. He was content just to listen to the innate song of the sturdy tree, in tune with its leaves that swayed gently in the winds above. It was almost like being back home._

 _There was a sudden shift in the song, a soft murmur that alerted him to a subtle change even before the sound of approaching footsteps reached Legolas' ears. He looked up to see one of the twins walking towards him. Remembering the way he had dashed past the sons of Elrond in the corridor of their own home earlier, in his reckless endeavour to spend the time before his lessons outside, made him feel suddenly unaccountably foolish. And after he had spent so much time and effort to convince the twins that he was no longer the elfling they had tossed back and forth on their last visit to the Greenwood. What if they told Arwen?_

 _As the twin stepped closer Legolas recognized Elrohir. He hastened down the branches of the tree, wondering if he had misjudged the time, was he late for his lessons? He paused briefly to lay an appreciative hand on the oak's rough bark, thanking it for its time and companionship, before he jumped from the last branch, landing smoothly in front of Elrohir._

 _The twin smiled at him. "My father sends me to tell you your lessons for today have been cancelled." He continued before Legolas could react to the news. "I am on my way to scout the River Path, some reports say there might have been a rockslide that is blocking the passage. Would you care to accompany me?"_

 _Legolas nodded eagerly, for a moment forgetting the mystery as to why his lessons were cancelled. He could ask that later. For now all that mattered was that he would get to spend the day outdoors, exploring more of the elven haven he would be staying in for a good while. It also did not hurt that it felt nice to be asked on a scouting mission and his earlier thoughts regarding this morning's behaviour were quickly forgotten._

" _Then let us go."_

 _They ascended the steep stairs to the top of the cliffs first and followed the path southwest_ _alongside the Bruinen. The valley that hid the Last Homely House narrowed in this direction until not much more remained than a small path on either side of the riverbed enclosed by the steep cliffs that the river had carved into the rock over the ages. Further south the terrain would even out, the cliffs lower to become almost level with the waters of the Bruinen as they neared the ford. Here, almost an hour's walk from the stairs they took earlier, the cliffs were already lower than in the main village, but they remained tall, and the path below them stayed hidden._

 _The River Path was rarely used by travellers these days, most people following or knowing only the direct path from the ford to Imladris, but this route offered the better protection. With the river under Vilya's control, Elrond could monitor it more closely - and close it off if needed. Some of the men in the villages close to the Hidden Valley still used this path to travel to the elven realm, in search of aid or lucrative trades. As such it was kept open for them. If a rockslide had truly buried the path it would need to be reopened._

 _Elrohir waited for Legolas to catch up to him when the younger elf got caught in a tangle of shrubs growing on the rocky soil. The top of the cliffs were harder to navigate than the true path below them, at the river's edge, would have been since no paths crossed the wild tangle of plants up here. But if they wanted to get an overview of the whole path and assess the damage of a possible slide, then he needed the higher ground up here._

" _There", Legolas said, panting slightly as he reached the twin's side. He was pointing at a jagged edge in the otherwise smooth corners of the cliff face, muddy ground was visible here where shrubs and grass should have been covering the ground._

 _Elrohir nodded his agreement. This was where the rockslide had been. "Let's have a closer look."_

 _Carefully the two elves approached the open space that gaped like a wound in the cliff face._

 _Signalling the younger elf to stay behind a bit, Elrohir crouched low at the very edge of the cliff, trying to assess the damage of the rock slide and the extent of the blockage to the path below. From here he would also be able to see if further slides had occurred along the cliff side._

" _It seems to be limited to this area. But it has created quite the barrier, it will need to be cleared before it can be used again." Shaking his head at the realization, Elrohir got to his feet and turned around. It would take them a long time to reopen the River Path and with the orcs he and his twin had seen last night possibly approaching, they would not have the time to do so. They could only hope that no humans would venture down the path, possibly getting stuck between the rocks below and the advancing forces of the orcs._

 _A sudden noise snapped Elrohir from his thoughts. A noise as if a boot had been pulled from a swamp, the sound of an air pocket being released from slick soil as too much pressure was placed upon it._

 _It was the sound of the washed out mud that held the cliff face together giving way._

 _Before he had a chance to fully register what was happening the ground beneath Elrohir disappeared and with a crashing of debris, rocks and dirt the twin was dragged from sight._

 _For a moment Elrohir's eyes met Legolas' and the young woodelf was surprised to see no fear in the grey eyes of the twin, only surprise. His own body was frozen with dread. A terrible few moments passed in which the noise drowned out everything, even his racing thoughts. When it stopped the land was plunged into a tense silence._

 _Legolas drew a shaky breath, not even aware until then that he had held it, and finally the paralyzing fear seemed to fall from him. Only to be replaced by a terrifying helplessness. What was he to do?_

 _Heedless of the danger he rushed to the edge of the cliff and fell to his knees. Leaning forward as far as he dared he looked at the depth. "Elrohir!" he yelled, not really expecting an answer._

" _Elrohir!" It was less of a shout this time, almost a sob as the reality of what had just happened, of what might very well have been Elrohir's fate, dawned on him._

 _He shook his head vehemently, trying to dispel the images in his head. Images of a broken body at the bottom of the ravine, of lifeless limbs buried beneath stones._

 _He had to do something. Before the paralysis could grasp him again, Legolas moved._

 _Taking a few hasty steps back from the cliff, too aware suddenly of the possibility that it could crumble further and take him over the edge as well, he looked around frantically. He had to get down there._

 _He wracked his brain furiously. What did he know about this part of the valley? Legolas had not been here before though he had looked at the maps with the twins and Erestor, inherently fascinated with maps and the defences of the Hidden Valley. He tried to remember them now but there was no useful information stored in his memory._

 _He sighed in frustration._

 _Rising to his feet and deciding to walk along the cliff's edge, Legolas followed the outline of the rock face carefully. He might find a place gentle enough for him to climb down._

 _He would have to be careful, the rain of the previous days would not only have destabilized the cliff itself, but would have also made handholds slippery and unreliable. So, with as much speed as he dared, he ran along the edge of the cliff, worry constantly on his mind, hurrying his steps. His desperation mounted when the cliff's wall remained a steep, seemingly insurmountable obstacle, and the further he ran, the longer it would take him to get back to Elrohir's side._

 _Time was of the essence._

 _If the twin was even alive, a small voice in the back of his mind noted, but Legolas chose to ignore it. He would not accept any other possibility, not until he saw the gruesome truth with his own eyes._

 _After what felt like an eternity but had in truth not taken him further than a few hundred yards from the site of the rockslide, Legolas' eyes finally spotted what he had been looking for. A small copse of valerian grew against the side of the cliff in a small furrow that split the smooth outer edge of the precipice. The bluff sloped a bit more here and the trough with the hardy plants might give him enough traction to climb down. Without waiting for his mind to decide otherwise Legolas set his foot on the improvised path and carefully half climbed and half scuttled down its length._

 _When he finally reached the bottom of the ravine, he took a moment to catch his breath and orient himself. In front of him, behind the path, the Bruinen was rushing by, a swirling mass of water, barely confined by its tight banks. The rains of the last few days had made the river swell more than normal for the season._

 _Setting his gaze to the path that he knew would take him back to the site of the rockslide, Legolas set out. He ignored the growing feeling of unease, the small whispers in his mind that he would not like what he would see, but he hurried on regardless. Nothing mattered right now except finding Elrohir._

 _He rounded the last corner in his path and ran towards the cliff face, fearing the worst despite his most valiant efforts to stay positive. The relief he felt when he saw the younger twin, leaning heavily against the cliff but on his own two feet, was almost enough to send him to his knees._

-o0o-

The elves of Rivendell were riding hard, their horses' hooves effortlessly chipping away at the hard stone floor of the River Path. With the horses it would take them far less than an hour to reach the site where Elladan was sure he would find his twin.

Suddenly the older twin reined in his horse, momentarily forgetting the need for speed and the elves following along behind him. It was only when his father, riding up alongside him, placed a gentle hand on his arm that Elladan was pulled from his reverie. The look in his father's grey eyes was calm and collected but questioning.

"He is close", Elladan said simply, trusting that his father would realize the implications. He could feel Elrohir again. And though his twin appeared to be in considerable pain, a fact that he chose not to share with his father just yet, the simple fact that Elrohir seemed to be awake and close by gave him new strength, new hope.

With a gentle nudge to his horse's side Elladan urged the animal forward again. His twin was awake and he would not rest ere he was safe as well.

They rode on until the sight that greeted them behind the next bend made them halt once more.

The path was blocked.

From the high cliff down to the shore of the rushing Bruinen, the path had been covered in mud and rocks the size of grown men. It was the very rockslide that Erestor had suspected might have occurred last night, the one that Elrohir went to investigate before something dreadful had happened. And now it stopped their advance.

But Elrohir was close, so very close that Elladan could feel the tingle of their bond in the back of his mind, could feel the pain radiating from their unique connection. Much more pain than Elrohir would allow him to feel if he had the strength to keep it to himself. It urged Elladan forward.

With a quick movement he left his horse's saddle and rushed towards the rockslide. For a brief moment he contemplated digging through the giant mass of boulders, an irrational fear that his twin was trapped somewhere beneath them taking hold. It was an icy, paralyzing fear that threatened to rob him of conscious thought and the ability to act as dreadful images of his twin, wounded and alone, buried beneath cold stone where no light could reach him, assaulted his mind.

With great effort he dragged his mind away from his fears and forced himself to think rationally. Where was Legolas?

They did not know what had happened to the young woodelf who had accompanied his twin on the trip. Had he fallen victim to the same incident that had injured Elrohir? Was he buried beneath these stones? Or was he alright and with his twin right now?

Only one way to find out.

Elladan was dimly aware of the other elves in their company also approaching the rockslide on their feet now as he took two steps back. Raising his face to the top of the pile of rock and mud he shouted.

"Legolas!"

-o0o-

 _to be continued…_

 **A/N:** As usual a big thank you to my wonderful betareader frannysnow and to the amazing people who left a review on the last chapter: sian22, Lady Lindariel and Gondorian Elf.

I hope people are still reading this story. If you are please consider telling me what you think, reviews really do help me find the motivation to keep writing this story.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

A/N: I'm very sorry that it took me so long to post a new chapter, but RL has been rough. In fact I thought it would take me a lot longer to find my 'writing mojo' again, but then, this morning, I read a wonderful review and then a couple more as I finally caught up on replying to reviews and I felt so incredibly grateful and motivated.

So as a thank you to everyone who left reviews on any of my stories, I worked hard to get you this next chapter. You are all amazing!

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 4**

Legolas glanced up at the sky above. Dark clouds still shrouded Arnor's light making it appear as if evening was already approaching. Perhaps it was. Legolas had to admit that he did not exactly know what time it was. How long ago was it that he had left Rivendell together with Elrohir? How much time had passed since the younger twin had disappeared over the edge of the cliff when the ground beneath his feet had given way?

He couldn't say. Not for certain at least.

It felt like hours had passed before he had even reached the twin's side, though it could not have been more than a few minutes. Even longer seemed the time that he had fumbled helplessly, trying to make himself remember his lessons, remember anything useful that would help the injured twin.

For all the good that it did, he mused grimly. Helplessness threatened to overtake him again as Legolas glanced down at Elrohir's face. It was painfully pale, as if the very energy of life was draining from the dark haired elf. Elrohir's eyes were tightly closed and Legolas was not sure whether the twin had succumbed to unconsciousness again or whether he was merely too exhausted to keep his eyes open. In either way, Legolas thought it best not to disturb him.

He looked at the wall of rocks and debris that barred the path next to them. Many of the smaller rocks had fallen close enough that he could reach out and touch them. It was a miracle Elrohir hadn't been buried beneath the rock slide in the first place. The fact that he had managed to walk away from it, if only by a few steps, was an even greater one.

And yet…

Again Legolas' gaze landed on the deathly pale face of his friend. The dark red of drying blood was a stark contrast against the ghostly white skin. And even though a part of Legolas was glad to see the flow of blood from the wound on the twin's forehead had finally stopped, another, more irrational part, had hoped to see fresh blood; if only to convince himself that it was still flowing within the twin's veins, still circulating, still keeping him alive.

A sudden noise made the young elf's head snap up sharply. Was he starting to imagine things? Over the rush of the Bruinen it was hard to make out any other sounds than that of crushing waves, but he could have sworn…

It came again, faint across the sound of the thundering waters but unmistakable. His name - someone was calling for him.

Hope soared within him as he realized what that meant. For a moment the emotion overtook him and his voice faltered as he tried to answer the call, tried to let the other person know they were here, both of them. Alive.

When his voice finally returned he answered the call. "We are here!"

He gently lifted Elrohir's head off his lap and got to his feet. The shout had come from beyond the pile of rubble that was the rockslide. Coming to stand in front of it he repeated his answering call once more.

Then he waited.

-o0o-

The rushing of the raging waters was deafening. Elladan tried to blend it out, to make sure he would hear any possible answer to his call, no matter how unlikely it might be.

Then: " _We are here._ "

It was faint, barely audible above the background noise, but there. To Elladan, who had been listening intently, it seemed as clear as if Legolas had stood next to him - and his heart sang at the word 'we'. Elrohir was with Legolas, and despite the dull echo of the pain he could still feel from his twin, despite the fact that he didn't know how bad Elrohir's injuries truly were, hope rose in his chest.

Without taking the time to have second thoughts Elladan approached the rock slide again, and, within moments, scaled the steep hill of loose debris. Nothing would keep him now from reaching Elrohir's side.

The rubble beneath his hands and feet was still wet and slick with mud, but Elladan did not care. He moved with all the inherent grace of the elves, never faltering in his steps, in his mission. Within mere moments he had made it to the top of the mound of rocks that had formerly been part of the cliff face and started down the other side. A small part of him was dimly aware that the others were following him now, trusting his judgement that the path he was taking was safe. He hoped they were right, for in his hurry he paid little heed to the dangers of scaling the crumbling rockslide.

It wasn't until he was almost at ground level on the other side that he actually saw Legolas. The blond elf was waiting for him to reach his side, reluctant to step further away from Elrohir.

Elrohir! Elladan's eyes strayed from the disconcerting amount of fear mirrored in Legolas' face to the still form of his twin. From his current position he could not make out the extent of injuries covering his brother's body, but he could still feel his pain, could almost imagine hearing his laboured breathing.

He hurried his steps.

"Legolas", Elladan forced himself to stop for a moment and acknowledge the younger elf. He rested one of his hands on the other's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Conveying the message that the young elf was not alone anymore. Help had come.

There was relief in Legolas' gaze as his and Elladan's eyes met, but the woodland prince quickly turned his head, directing both their gazes back to Elrohir. The older twin let his hand fall off his friend's shoulder and was at his twin's side with two quick steps. He knelt down and gently lifted Elrohir's head into his lap.

"Oh, Ro", he murmured, "What did you do this time?"

He gently brushed a strand of Elrohir's hair behind his ear, trying not to flinch at the sight of the dried blood that marred his twin's forehead and cheek. The skin beneath the dark red stains was ghostly pale.

Roused by the gentle touch Elrohir's eyelids fluttered open and the hint of a smile ghosted over his lips. "I knew … you'd come."

"Shh, don't speak" Elladan chided his twin, dismayed at the wheezing sound to his brother's breathing and the difficulty he clearly had with forming words. "Ada will be here in a moment."

He rested his hand on Elrohir's chest, fighting for a moment the urge to send out his own healing energy, if only to see just how extensive his twin's injuries truly were. But their bond made healing each other nearly impossible and he would serve neither his brother nor their father by attempting it now. Elrond had been right behind him, surely he could wait a few seconds longer.

The lord of Imladris was the next person to scale the rubble of the rockslide. Disregarding the wellbeing of his clothes he more slid then climbed down the other side in his hurry to reach his sons' side.

"Lord Elrond", Legolas stammered when he saw him, falling into step beside his current teacher in the healing arts, "I am so sorry, I didn't know what to do. He fell and I, I didn't know -"

Elrond turned to the young woodland prince then, disregarding for a moment the need to reach his sons' side and focusing instead on the needs of the blond elf beside him.

"Do not worry Legolas", he said and his voice was calmness itself. It held no hint of the worry he felt, as he strove to reassure the younger elf. His eyes flickered over to his sons, Elladan gently cradling his twin's head in his lap, leading a silent one-sided conversation. "It appears you did not move him which could have aggravated his injuries and instead have stood beside him to provide care. You did well, Legolas."

Elrond held eye contact with Legolas for a while longer, assuring himself that the younger elf would register the words he had spoken and see the sincerity in his eyes.

Legolas shoulders sagged as he released the tension he hadn't realized had built up within him. Elrond let go of the young prince's shoulder and turned around. By now Glorfindel and most of his warriors had crossed to the other side of the rockslide as well and the golden haired seneschal instructed his men to form a protective perimeter around them. It was not more than a precaution, and was designed as much to keep the elves busy as it was to assure that no further harm would befall the perdhel family.

Elrond paid them little heed, now focused entirely on his two sons. Elladan was trying to hide his worry but it was a feeble attempt at best and Elrond's heart went out to his oldest. Thanks to the bond the twins shared he would be intimately aware of just how much pain Elrohir was truly in, something that, he had noticed, Elladan had not been keen on sharing.

A few more strides brought Elrond to his sons' side. He kneeled opposite of Elladan on Elrohir's other side, noting with some relief that Elrohir's eyes were open and he seemed coherent. Elladan stopped in his reiteration of their journey here, which he had, Elrond guessed, only brought up to distract his twin from his pain.

Pain that was still all too visible in Elrohir's face, in the way the muscles around his mouth tightened at the slightest movement of Elladan and in the shadow that seemed to dull the spark in his grey eyes.

"Relax, my son", Elrond murmured. It was as close to 'Ada is here' as he allowed himself to say to his now grown sons. With infinite care he gently laid one hand on his son's chest and the other on his forehead. The touch was feather light, as he feared that even the smallest additional pressure might cause Elrohir further pain.

He closed his eyes as he summoned the healing abilities that had been a gift to his family granted by their Maiarin ancestry. With a rush of warmth his powers responded. They were akin to a living thing in their intensity, like tendrils of light that rushed through his son's body, evaluating and probing his injuries. He brushed past superficial scratches and the bruises that were even now forming along Elrohir's back and side. A deeper gash was the one he had seen on Elrohir's forehead, but he had not observed any signs of a possible concussion so he ignored it for now as he probed deeper.

It was not long until he ran into the obstacle he had expected. Appearing like a thick black coil of coalesced pain that centred on his son's chest, the injury withheld the soft probing tendrils of his healing power. He intensified the flow of the energy to breach the darkness.

Feeling more than seeing the true extent of Elrohir's injuries now, the father in him blanched. But the healer continued his ministrations and, drawing upon the very strength of his feä, Elrond released the full potential of his healing power, as he coaxed bones to realign and tissue to mend beneath his touch.

Without this ancient magic, this remnant from the time of Melian, he knew, Elrohir might not have survived. A sudden gratitude for this most useful of family heirlooms flooded through him even as more energy was drained away, flowing freely now into his son, healing the damage to the punctured lung and persuading tense muscles to work harder, to re-inflate the organ that had slowly been filling with blood.

Next to him Elladan looked on anxiously, watching as the light around his father and twin intensified. The feä of Elrond seemed to expand, to envelop Elrohir in a magic enthused embrace. He had observed this before, more often than he should have liked, and could almost feel the energy leaving his father, and though it provided much needed healing for his beloved twin Elladan grew weary as it continued. The longer the trance lasted the more the colour seemed to leave his father's face, leaving his skin ashen and sickly. And yet Elrohir's condition did not seem to improve. His breathing was still shallow, still came in short strangled gasps, and he kept his eyes firmly closed, making it harder for Elladan to gauge the pain he was in.

Maybe, he just failed to see the improvement? Was he too focused on his grief and fears that he could not see that his twin was healing, was on the mend? Elladan closed his eyes. With a deep, steadying breath he centred himself and then reached for the twin bond that connected him to Elrohir. Now that he did not rely on what his eyes told him he could feel the energy coursing through Elrohir's body thanks to their father's ministrations. He shifted his attention from the rush of the golden energy and tried to grasp his brother's emotions instead.

A nearly overpowering urge to convince himself that Elrohir would indeed be fine, guided his actions. It was difficult to get a read on Elrohir's pain and feeling while the bright energy of their father coursed through his body, but he tried. Focusing entirely on his twin, he felt less pain now, less confusion. Instead Elladan could sense –

Hasty words, whispered in harsh tones in his immediate surroundings pulled Elladan from his concentration and made him lose his tenuous grasp on their bond. He looked up to see that Amrothion, clearly out of breath, had run up to Glorfindel and was talking to him in hushed tones. The balrog slayer's face was grim.

Glorfindel gestured for his remaining warriors to join him and cast a questioning gaze at Elladan. The older twin was torn. He looked at his father, still deep within the healing trance, and knew that he was not needed here at the moment, still he was loathe to leave his brother now. Gently, so as to neither disturb Elrohir nor their father's healing, he lifted his brother's head from his lap and stood to his feet.

Taking the raging emotions and the worry for Elrohir that were still coursing through his veins and shutting them firmly into a corner of his mind, Elladan joined his commander. For a moment Glorfindel just regarded him silently, clearly hesitating. Their situation was bad.

He gazed past the twin to where his lord was kneeling by Elrohir's side on the hard ground of the river path. "I guess we won't be able to move Elrohir and your father?" he asked, though he could already guess the answer.

Elladan shook his head. "No, not when he is this deep in a healing trance, any interruption might break his concentration and could do serious harm – to both of them."

Glorfindel nodded, it was as he had expected. "Orcs are approaching", he explained for Elladan's benefit for the older twin had been too far away to hear Amrothion's report. Elladan's face fell at the news, an uneasy feeling spreading through him that was confirmed by the balrog slayer's next words. "From the description it seems they are the ones you and Elrohir spotted last night – a band of about sixty. They must have continued on their march through both night and day."

There was no judgement in the golden-haired elf's voice. He lay no blame upon the elven twins and the error in their report. Orcs were unpredictable creatures, and the overcast sky had granted them the chance to move during daylight, which would have been difficult to foresee.

And yet Elladan berated himself for their easy assumption that the orcs would make camp when in truth it seemed they had only taken a break. He despaired at the consequences this could have. His brother was still gravely injured, his father in a healing trance that could not be broken and rapidly running out of energy.

That left eight elven warriors against a troupe of sixty orcs, not good odds on a normal day, certainly worse with the added need of protecting his brother and father and the young woodland prince that was under their care.

"Set up a defensive perimeter in two lines", Glorfindel commanded his warriors, interrupting Elladan's thoughts. "Amrothion, Baranir, Tarion, position yourself at the bend in the path. Do not give way. You others", he turned to address the remaining warriors, "form a line twenty yards behind us so we can fall back if necessary."

"That includes you, Elladan", Glorfindel added before the older twin could speak. He had not turned to join the other elves in their allocated positions and Glorfindel could see the fire of an argument burning in the grey eyes of his lord's son. Elladan was not one to stand back in battle and let others fight for him, not even if part of him yearned to stay at his brother's side regardless of the advancing orc force.

Still, the tone Glorfindel had used brooked no argument and Elladan knew better than to challenge the decision of the captain of Imladris' defences. It would be both foolish and pointless. He cast one last look at his father and brother, still surrounded by the soft glow of Elrond's healing energy, the only testament to the battle his father was fighting even now.

Elladan hesitated a moment. Then he turned back and made his way over to Legolas. Standing almost forlornly at the base of the cliff, neither wanting to risk interrupting Lord Elrond's healing trance nor being presumptuous enough to ask Glorfindel to be involved in the fighting, the young elf looked lost.

"Legolas" Elladan said, catching the younger elf's attention. He reached out a hand to clasp his bow and removed the quiver of arrows from his shoulder. Maybe the prince couldn't fight in the battle, but he was good with the bow and he would be able to do what Elladan needed him to.

"Will you protect them for me?"

No explanation was necessary as to whom he meant as Legolas understood instantly. The woodelf's gaze flickered over to Elrohir and Elrond, still in the middle of the path, exposed to all dangers if their defences should fail.

Instantly the lost look left his eyes to be replaced by a gaze of steely determination and he met Elladan's gaze firmly.

"Yes", he said and reached out to take the bow from Elladan's hands. His grip on the ashen bow was steady and firm and he swung the quiver over his shoulder with practiced ease.

This he could do.

And he would not disappoint the trust Elladan had placed in him.

With a final nod that conveyed his gratitude, the older son of Elrond turned around and hastened to his appointed position in the second line of Glorfindel's defences.

Nine elves, now.

It was better than eight.

It would have to be enough.

-o0o-

 _to be continued…_


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:** All the fighting! :3

Also I am very sorry for the very long delay between chapters, I will try not to make you wait this long ever again. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited, without you I'm not sure I could have dragged myself back to the story.

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 5  
**

The thundering waters of the Bruinen nearly drowned out the sound of the approaching orcs, but they kept approaching, eventually coming close enough that Elladan could hear them – could suddenly hear very little else. He gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles showing white against taut skin.

The orcs were coming.

Yet, the defensive lines that Glorfindel had chosen meant that he would not even see the foul creatures until just before they attacked his friends. The bend in the path ahead made that impossible.

It meant the orcs would not see them either, would be taken by surprise by the elves waiting for them on the path.

It was the only advantage they had.

With the rockslide at their backs blocking any possible retreat and, more importantly, with the need to protect his father and brother, the elves would not be able to give way, could not retreat and regroup. They had to bring the orcs' advance to a full stop here, there were no other options. He would not let the foul creatures lay their hands on his brother or father.

In front of him Elladan saw Glorfindel shift his weight to his supporting leg. He didn't tense, not truly, but his body spoke of the coming attack, fluid and poised, just like that of one of the wild cats of Harad before its pounce.

Elladan drew a last calming breath. This was it.

The sound of iron clad shoes became unbearably loud, drowning out the sound of the river, the sound of his own breathing and all rational thought. It bespoke the approach of their enemy, still hidden behind the bend in the road, yet coming ever closer. A few more tense seconds passed, then the first dark shapes appeared around the bend.

Three elven arrows immediately dropped them to the ground.

And for one long moment silence reigned as the orcs halted in their tracks.

It didn't last long.

Curses and shouts in the vile dark language of the orcs preceded the sudden much louder clamber of the heavy feet as the orcs renewed their attack. They may have been surprised but they showed no sign of fear or hesitation. Trusting in their superior numbers they charged around the bend in the road, straight at the first defensive line of elven warriors.

More arrows cut through the air and some of the orcs in the first line of the assault fell, only to be trampled beneath the boots of their companions.

It barely made a dent in their numbers.

"Swords!" Glorfindel commanded, his clear voice easily cutting through the senseless rumble of noise generated by their orc attackers. He had already unsheathed his slender mirthril blade, as deadly to his foes as it was beautiful, and with a final command on his lips he rushed forward to meet the approaching wave of their enemies.

"Charge!"

The other three elves of the first defence line were right behind him, Amrothion at their lead. Seemingly fearlessly, they met the superior numbers of the orcs on the battlefield.

A new sound rang out over the path, adding to the senseless cacophony of noise, as elven sword met orc scimitar and the battle begun in earnest. Amidst the parrying, the slashes and the thrusts, the elves did their best to stop the advance of the orc force. If they let but a few slip past them, they knew, they would be surrounded in moments, the battle lost and their charges in mortal peril.

Amrothion ducked an oncoming scimitar and quickly jumped back to avoid the swing of a second orc weapon. He used the space the movement had gained him to grab a hold of the dagger in his belt, firmly grasping it in his left hand. Against these numbers it felt good to have two weapons at his disposal.

With a new shout he charged at the orcs that had driven him back just moments ago and met their blades. A second's delay on his last step meant the first orc's scimitar swung harmlessly by in front of him, leaving a blind spot in its wake that Amrothion was quick to exploit. Blocking the second orc's crude weapon with his sword he lashed out with his left hand, deeply embedding the dagger in the soft skin of the first beast's side, just under its armpit. Warm black blood gushed forward, but Amrothion paid it no heed as he pulled his blade out of the struck orc and used it to block the new swing of an incoming scimitar. He flinched as he took the brunt of the blow on his weaker left hand - he had miscalculated the strength of this new orc. His wrist withstood the onslaught with effort and he blocked the scimitar high over his head, binding the creature's weapon there and leaving his sword free to skewer the orc.

Two down.

But all too many more to go.

He turned to face the next orc, hoping that the crowded area on the path and the mounting bodies of their fallen comrades would hinder the foul beasts enough that he would not have to face more than one this time.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of golden hair waving intricate patterns in the air as it followed in the wake of Glorfindel's dance of death. The Balrog Slayer was but a blur of movements and glistening mithril flashes as he carved graceful arcs against the dull grey sky with his blade. A number of orcs had already fallen to his sword but ever more were coming, climbing over the carcasses of their companions, using the unsure footing like a macabre version of higher ground.

In the increased onslaught even Glorfindel had to give way. Taking a few steps back he called to his warriors to retreat behind the second line of their defences then rushed forward and back into the fray. Tarion had been injured, a deep red stain rapidly spreading over his thigh as what appeared to be a stab wound bled freely there. The wound impaired his ability to run making him the instant focus of an attack by three orcs.

Leering cruelly at the already wounded elf, they crowded around him. Tarion dodged the first thrust of a scimitar and barely avoided the swipe of another but the momentum of his evasion brought him right where the third orc had wanted him. A cruel smile was on the beast's lips as it brought its raised sword down on the exposed back of the elf.

A sudden flash of gold entered the orc's line of sight and the clear ring of his sword's steel on mithril told him that his attack had been thwarted. Glorfindel parried his opponent's blade and sliding his own sword down along that of his enemy he used the fact that the orc weapon had no hand guard to a cruel advantage.

The orc howled in pain and rage as his sword dropped to the ground, the hilt still clasped in a now severed hand.

But the golden haired elf paid his opponent no further heed. Grabbing Tarion by the shoulder, he pushed the younger elf back, propelling him towards the second line of their defences and safety, if only momentary.

For a few precious seconds more he held the orcs at bay before he spun around to follow his men. They would make a new stand at their second line, a last stand.

Behind him the orcs howled in rage as they tried to chase after him. Their initial advance had been slowed and many of the dark creatures had lost their lives - but not enough, not nearly enough.

"Archers!" he bellowed, giving the elves in the second line, Amrothion and Baranir now among them, the sign to use the distance that still lay between them and the approaching orcs to their advantage. A few shots was all they would be able to make but every hit counted. They desperately needed to reduce the orcs' numbers if they were to have any chance at all.

Right now they did not have one that he could see.

-o0o-

Legolas held the bow Elladan had given him in a vice-like grip. His knuckles showed white against his taut skin but he hardly noticed the strain he was putting on the slender wooden weapon. Ever nearer the sound of the orcs came and even though he was far behind the two lines Glorfindel had assigned his warriors, it felt deafening. Even the roar of the Bruinen was no more than a trinkle compared to the sound of sixty pairs of heavy iron shod feet stamping over the stone strewn path.

As the sound increased so, too, did his apprehension. Suddenly he felt ill-prepared for battle, despite his years of weapon's training, despite knowing that he excelled with the bow.

It was a humbling realization.

And to think he had begged his father to allow him to officially join the patrols in Mirkwood hardly more than a fortnight ago. His father had put more faith in him than he perhaps should have when he relented and promised to grant Legolas his wish, if he learnt about the necessary healing skills a warrior should possess first.

And yet, here he was. He hadn't known enough about healing to aid Elrohir and he doubted he knew enough about battles to join the Imladris elves in this desperate fight.

How foolish he had been.

His grip on Elladan's bow tightened and he grit his teeth against the self-incriminating thoughts. The older twin had given him the bow to defend his brother and father if their defences should fail. Even though Legolas didn't trust his own abilities, Elladan had done so.

Still did.

A newfound resolve washed over him, taking doubts and hesitation with it. He had a task and he would see it done. Again his eyes strayed to Elrond, who was still in a deep trance, unaware, or so it seemed, of everything that was going on around him, focused solely on his younger son.

Legolas wasn't sure but he thought that some colour may have returned to Elrohir's cheeks and that the soft glow surrounding both peredhel elves was diminishing. Did this mean that Elrond would finish with his healing soon? Was Elrohir going to be saved only to die with his family and friends at the hands of these orcs?

No.

Legolas' eyes flashed like steel as he made that decision.

No! He would not fail in the duty Elladan had tasked him with. He would see that Elrohir and Elrond at least stayed protected, even if their defences should falter and the other Imladris elves should be overrun.

The sudden sound of steel on steel pulled Legolas from his reverie.

The battle had begun.

Without further hesitation Legolas stood to his feet. His grip on the elven bow was still firm but no longer desperately so and with a calm that surprised him, he watched the battle unfold.

"Retreat!" Legolas could hear Glorfindel's command, floating above the noise of battle, a last clear bright sound that was quickly devoured by the din of metal clashing against metal and the orcs' terrifying shrieks of rage and pain.

Fixing his eyes on the battle that raged before him, Legolas waited. The elves were falling back to their second line of defence, but still too many orcs gave chase and their chances to hold the line were slim. Legolas shuddered at the thought of what would happen to the elves of Rivendell, to Glorfindel and Elladan, who were face to face with the frightening foe. He cursed his elven eyesight for allowing him to see the manic gleam in the orcs' cruel eyes, their malicious spirit and the way one of the beasts licked the blood of its swords after scoring a hit on an elven defender, further increasing its frenzy.

He wanted to be sick. Yet he never wavered in his grip on Elladan's bow – the time for fear had passed.

Glorfindel was retreating himself now, after having sent one of his warriors stumbling back to the line behind. The orcs were following him and though he outpaced them easily with his long strides there would be but a moment for the elves in the second line to use their bows before they, too, would have to fight with their swords in much closer quarters.

Legolas' gaze still followed the events on the path, the shapes of the orcs, like a squirming mass of dark limbs and foul voices, when suddenly his eyes landed on something unexpected.

His mind raced as he grasped an arrow from Elladan's quiver and took careful aim - perhaps a moment is all it would take to give the elves of Rivendell a new advantage.

Legolas drew back the bow string until his fingers rested beneath his chin, and he could feel the fletching of the arrow brush his skin. Then, taking a last steadying breath, he released the arrow.

The arrow shot from the string.

It flew true.

With a precision borne of a yen of training Legolas' arrow hit exactly the spot that he had been aiming for. With barely a sound beyond the din of battle the metal tip of the projectile collided with a small stone in the side of the cliff – and bounced off.

Harmlessly, it ricocheted away from the stone and buried itself into the ground of the river path. Far away from the fighting.

Nothing happened.

Until suddenly, seemingly a life time later, the stone that Legolas had hit began to shift.

The momentum of the arrow had loosened its connection to the dirt and stones of the cliff face. It was a small thing - but one with terrible consequences. Slowly, ever so slowly, the stone broke free from the cliff face, leaving behind a hole that stretched into a tear, then blossomed into a flower of growing cracks.

Finally, with a deafening roar, the entire cliff broke apart.

Louder and more massive than what he had observed earlier in the day this new rock slide seemed to take the entire wall off the path and throw it over the skirmish below. Elves and orcs alike were lost in the rush of rising dust that billowed forth from the site of the disaster.

"No", Legolas gasped weakly, the bow cluttering to the ground from now listless fingers.

What had he done?

-o0o-

 _to be continued…_


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:** I'm very sorry for the cliffie at the end of the last chapter (well, maybe not _very_ sorry…) – it just seemed like such a wonderful place to end the chapter :) *tries to look innocent*

Regardless, I have been told that I should at the very least hurry with an update, and I have tried to do so. To LadyLindariel, Rita Orca, Jessy14040 and SnidgetHex: Thank you for your reviews and I hope you are now appeased, and to GondorianElf – sorry, I promised them that I wouldn't let it end on another cliff hanger (feel free to stop reading 4 paragraphs early ;) )

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 6**

 _Glorfindel ducked out of the way of the volley of arrows that his warriors fired at the advancing orcs behind him, dimly aware of heavy bodies hitting the ground, never to rise again. It might give him the precious time he needed to reach the defensive line - but what then?_

 _There were still too many orcs advancing, too many of the dark creatures screaming for their blood and torment. They could not hope to hold back a force this large._

 _A new arrow entered his line of sight, cutting through his thoughts as easily as through the air. The projectile was flying higher than the ones before and from further back. Clearly, it had been shot from behind the line of his warriors that Elladan and Amrothion were trying to position to its maximum efficiency._

 _Glorfindel cast his eyes over the River Path behind them and there found the source of the arrow._

 _Legolas, Elladan's bow still held in his hands, stood alone on the barren path, his eyes following the course of his projectile. Glorfindel found his own gaze also drawn to the young elf's arrow. The arrow hit a rock in the side of the cliff and bounced away – seemingly harmless, yet not without consequences._

 _A dark feeling of foreboding formed in Glorfindel's stomach, threatening to slow his run as it settled on his straining limbs. Glorfindel realized what was about to happen. Disregarding the feeling of dread, he lengthened his strides further, sprinting the last few feet to reach the line of his men in an effort to shout a warning that turned out to be futile as it got lost in a pandemonic rush of noise and stones._

 _Instinctively he and the other elves ducked for cover, shielding their eyes and faces against the rising dust and any stray rocks that might come close enough to do damage. Darkness rushed up to meet them in a cloud of debris and dirt that drowned out the weak light of the hidden sun._

-o0o-

As Legolas eyes roamed the path before him - desperate, numb, disbelieving - the dust began to settle.

Nothing moved until, suddenly, a stray ray of sunshine caught on something golden.

Glorfindel!

Dimly Legolas' mind registered the fact that the elf lord had been closest to the attacking orcs and the site of the rock slide – and yet, he had stayed clear of the falling debris. That meant the others most likely had as well.

Relief so strong that it made his knees waver under him rushed through Legolas. His plan had worked!

The loss of the stone he had targeted had brought the wall down on top of the orc attackers, sparing the elves that had been retreating. Still, Legolas swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat - that had been far too close a call. Too easily had he underestimated the force of the rockslide, too easily could he have doomed all his friends and allies to share the fate of the orc attackers.

It was only when the renewed ringing of steel on steel caught his attention that the dreadful thoughts of what had almost happened were chased from his mind.

His rock slide had not hit all the orcs either.

Some of the foul beasts had survived and now, recovered from the shock and noise, they attacked. Anger at the sudden loss of most of their forces refuelled their hatred as they rushed against the last line of the elven defences, scimitars held high.

Legolas reached down to retrieve his bow and strung a new arrow. The fight was not over yet.

-o0o-

The noise was first to fade.

In the cloud of dust that still drowned out the light and made it impossible to see, Glorfindel used the moment of respite to make sure all his limbs were still attached and not buried beneath stone. As the visibility slowly improved he could make sure the same held true for Elladan and Amrothion, who stood closest to him.

"Is everyone alright?" he shouted. The dust in the air made him cough but he did not care – the answer to that question was too important to wait. Relief rushed through him when he received only positive answers.

That had been too close. Much too close.

He would have to have some serious words with Legolas later.

Slowly the dust settled and as the visibility improved, Glorfindel could see the top of the massive new rockslide that now blocked the path in front of them, much larger than the one at their backs.

They had been lucky, incredibly so, and while the young Thranduilion's plan had nearly killed them all, it had also saved them. Most of the orcs had surely been buried beneath unforgiving rock, their bodies crushed under monstrous boulders or cast into the rushing waters of the Bruinen by the flood of mud and debris.

But not all of them had suffered those fates.

The sudden return of noise - of grunts and angered screams and the clambering of metal on metal underlined that fact. The surviving orcs were rallying, having lost their escape route they could now only try to push forward - through the elves.

This fight was not yet over.

With the last of the dust still billowing in clouds over the path, the orcs attacked. Guttural screams and grunts accompanied the beasts, preceding their attack while the clouds of dust still covered their approach.

The first orc stumbled out of the haze just in front of Glorfindel. The suddenly improved visibility clearly took it by surprise and it didn't even have the chance to raise its scimitar before Glorfindel swiftly ran it through. Extracting his stained mithril sword from the fallen orc, Glorfindel turned once more to his warriors.

"Attack!"

With nary a sound the elves moved forward, gleaming swords held ready. Fighting shoulder to shoulder on the narrow path meant they could effectively guard the injured elves behind them.

None of the orcs were going to break through their line.

Glorfindel spun to evade a particularly vicious swipe of a black blade, darkened, doubtlessly, by dried blood and dirt, and took a step back, neatly falling in line with the rest of his warriors. He spared a glance for Amrothion and Baranir to make sure they were unharmed after the retreat from their original defence line, before looking for Elladan.

The older twin was fighting in the middle of the line, driving the point of the wedge that the warriors were forming through the advancing wave of the desperate orcs. Elladan's eyes were darkened with rage and hatred for the dark beasts that had dared to invade their land, had brought so much suffering to so many, least of all his own family. He would rather die than let any of the creatures lay a hand on his twin or his father. Yet, despite the anger coursing through his veins and the worry for his twin and father, Elladan's movements were precise, his aim accurate - and deadly.

Ducking under the sweep of a dirty sword that was so forceful it pulled the orc who had attempted to decapitate him off balance, Elladan quickly grabbed the beast and shoved it backwards. The creature's sword impaled one of its companions instead of finding its way into soft elven flesh. Before it could remove its weapon from the carcass of its mate, Elladan shoved his own blade through the orc's side.

Black blood shot forth as he ripped the blade free, spattering his tunic with the vile liquid.

Elladan barely noticed.

Quickly, he sidestepped another attacker who had aimed at his unprotected side. The thrust of its spear tip missed him by inches but left the long weapon exposed. Cutting through the heavy wood with one quick slice, Elladan cleanly removed the weapon's tip from its body and left the orc staring dumbfounded at the stick it now bore. It was left with no means to defend against Elladan's counter attack.

With most of his elven strength behind his attack, Elladan cut through both, the wooden stick the orc had raised in defence and the beast's neck in a single, fluid motion. When he turned round once more, intent on finding the next orc daring enough to oppose him, he found none. The only orcs left alive were those writhing on the ground in agony - their wounds too severe to let them continue the fight but too minor to cause death.

Already, Baranir and Glorfindel were moving forward, set to the task of granting the creatures the release of a quick death. None of the elves relished needless suffering, not even that of their most hated enemies. Elladan gripped his sword tighter, intent on following them and doing his share of the grisly duty.

However, before he could take a step Glorfindel intercepted him. "Elladan," he said, catching the older twin by his elbow, "look after Tarion, please."

It was not a request and Elladan understood the order for what it was. With a firm nod to his commander and friend, he hurried over to the wounded elf's side to assess the other elf's injuries. Tarion regarded him with much the same exasperation that all wounded warriors seemed to display when faced with healers, which lessened Elladan's worry. Patients capable of complaining were rarely in true danger. With quick, trained movements he cleaned the injury and wound a tight linen wrapping over the wound. The cut was deep, but even, and would heal nicely once it could be stitched in the Halls of Healing in Rivendell. Until they returned the bandage would be enough to stop the flow of blood and keep the wound clean.

"Thanks," Tarion acknowledged with less grouch in his voice than he had displayed earlier in his demeanour.

Elladan nodded. "Try not to jostle the wound too much and make sure you report to the healers for stitches once we are back in Rivendell."

The twin waited for Tarion to acknowledge the instruction before sitting back and allowing himself a deep breath. The first one since the battle had started. The adrenaline still rushed through his veins, pushing him to move, to do something. Some of the orcs were still drawing breath.

He grabbed his sword again and rose back to his feet. It was only after he had taken a step back towards Glorfindel that he realized what he was really doing.

He was avoiding to return to his brother's and father's side.

Elladan chided himself for the notion. Would he truly rather face orcs on the battle field, than hear the verdict of his brother's condition from their father? Yet even as he looked back at his father, still in the healing trance, he could feel the sight tear at his heart.

It had been so long.

He could no longer feel Elrohir's pain, but he remembered the depth of it, remembered the despair it had caused him. Facing orcs paled in comparison to the fear for his brother's life, a fear that seemed to grasp his very fëa, to crush all hope from it.

A sudden change in the air around him finally pulled Elladan from his dark thoughts. He gazed around, not quite able to say what had caught his shift in attention; there was still activity behind him, Glorfindel and his warriors were still roaming the field of death and desolation where they had fought - the place where Legolas' rock slide had both, almost killed and ultimately saved them. In front of him his father was still in his healing trance, the light of his fëa –

Elladan rushed forward as the realization finally hit him. The light that had enveloped his father and brother, bright golden just a few moments ago, was failing rapidly.

Against the strain in his battle worn limbs, Elladan hurried his steps further. He was too familiar with the effects of his father's healing not to be concerned - but he was too late regardless. As the last of the light died away, his father fell backwards, his energy spent. He did not even have enough of it left to support his own weight. Yet, before his body could hit the hard stone floor, he was caught in gentle arms.

Legolas, having safely discarded the bow, had noticed what was happening and had rushed forward to catch the ailing elven lord. He looked up from Elrond's face, pale in the wane light of the overcast day, and met Elladan's gaze instead.

The older twin looked terrified.

For a moment that stretched into eternity, Elladan froze. This had been what he had worried about, the gnawing fear that had whispered in his ear even during the battle against the orcs. What if their father could not save Elrohir? What if even though they defeated the orcs his brother would still leave him? What if his father spent too much of his energy in the attempt? Images of his mother flashed before his eyes. He could not face this again. Would not.

It took more effort than before but finally Elladan forced the fears to the back of his mind, chaining his demons once more.

Then, with renewed haste, he rushed forward. With the fear controlled, nothing mattered now but the overriding need to help his twin and his father. He would deal with what he found once he reached their side.

It was better than he had dared to hope.

-o0o-

 _tbc…_

 ** _A/N2:_** _this chapter kept fighting me, but I think it turned out .. decent at least. There's only one more chapter to go after this, *yay* fanfares! As always I would love to hear what you thought about the chapter and the story that is now so very close to its happy end. :3_


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** None of Tolkien's characters nor the world of Middle Earth are mine and I do not aim to make any money from this story. I merely borrow the toys and play in the sandbox.

 **Rating:** PG-13 (T)

 **A/N:**

-o0o-

 **Gravity**

 **Chapter 7**

Far more familiar with the limits of his father's healing powers and the toll it took on its user, than he would have liked to be, Elladan was relieved to notice the steady rise and fall of his father's chest in Legolas' arms. Even more encouraging was the fact that Elrohir had adapted the same steady breathing rhythm. There was no longer any hint of the terrifying wheezing sound that had marked his few words and strangled coughs before.

"How are they?"

The words of Glorfindel drew his attention away from his twin and he looked up at the golden haired warrior. "They will recover!" He answered and could feel the relief flooding his veins when he spoke the words out loud, knowing them to be true. He had gotten too close to losing his brother this day but the knowledge that Elrohir would not leave him, not now, not ever, gave him new strength that washed the weariness of the day's events away like a ray of light that chases bad memories.

"They will need stretchers." He added, as the thought of their return to Rivendell occurred to him. His father and brother might be out of immediate danger, but a speedy return to the Last Homely House would still be necessary.

Glorfindel nodded. "I will ask Amrothion and Baranir to assemble them." He looked at Legolas then and held his gaze for a long moment, until the younger elf practically withered under the scrutiny. In the end, however, Glorfindel seemed to decide that what he had to say to the prince of Greenwood could wait. He turned around to return to his men.

It did not take the warriors long to build the stretchers that would facilitate his brother's and father's return to Rivendell and Elladan himself lifted his twin onto the wooden scaffolding that would carry him home.

Through all this, Elrohir remained unconscious, deep within a healing sleep that their father had, doubtlessly, placed him in. But it mattered little to Elladan, deep within the reaches of his heart Elladan could feel the presence of his twin's feä, steady, constant and reassuring, as it had been since the day they were born.

He let go of Elrohir's hand and handed him over to Amrothion and Baranir, who were preparing for the difficult task of getting the stretchers over the land slide in front of them, sending a new prayer of thanks to the Valar. Only by their grace had his brother and all of them been spared today.

-o0o-

Sunlight flitted over his closed eyelids, gently coaxing him to return to the light and to awareness.

His brother, though, was not quite as subtle.

"Open your eyes, Elrohir. We know that you are awake."

There was an unmistakable hint of a smile but also of relief in Elladan's voice and Elrohir renewed his efforts to open his eyes.

He was in the Healing Halls, much as he had expected from his brother's words and his own closed eyelids. Yet how had he ended up here? The last thing he remembered had been … He closed his eyes again, trying to collect his haphazard memories. He remembered leaving the house with Legolas to inspect the river path …

A wave of vertigo seemed to wash over him as he remembered the moment when the ground had given way beneath him and he had dropped into the dark below. He could almost feel the sinking feeling in his stomach anew, hear the deafening noise and realize the terrifying, certain fact of what was about to happen.

A steadying pressure on his shoulder interrupted the stream of unwelcome memories and he looked up to find Elladan had rested his hand on his upper arm, calmly lending support. Gratitude washed over him for the reassuring presence of his twin and he gave Elladan a reassuring nod to let him know he was alright.

And he found he was.

He was safe. He was home.

In the next minute, however, his smile froze, as a memory that had been at the back of his mind suddenly made itself known. His father! Elrond had been there. Elrohir remembered the warm embrace, the feeling of security that only his Adar could provide.

And he also remembered the soft tingle brought by the rush of his father's healing energy in his veins.

"Ada?" he asked, desperation sneaking into his tone as he looked at his twin, needing to know, needing to hear confirmation that their father was alright as well.

"I am right here, Elrohir", his father answered, just before stepping into the younger twin's line of vision. Elrohir released the breath he had unconsciously been holding, wincing at the sharp pain that accompanied the simple action.

"Here, drink this." His father held out a steaming cup and motioned for Elladan to help his brother into a sitting position.

"What about Legolas?" Elrohir asked between sips, barely suppressing a cough that send a sharp pain through his ribcage. It would still be a few days before the last reminders of his fall would fade, but already the tea his father had prepared took effect, dimming the pain and spreading a feeling of warmth throughout his body.

He fought the fatigue that always accompanied the healing herbs' pain numbing effects just long enough to get the answer he had hoped for.

"Legolas is alright."

-o0o-

After Elrohir had succumbed to the sleep-inducing effects of his tea, Elrond turned to his older son. "Shall we see how the young prince is faring?"

Elladan inclined his head in simple acquiescence and with a last look at his sleeping twin followed his father from the room.

It was not a long walk to the inner council chamber where Glorfindel had been planning to talk to Legolas. When they approached the arching doorway Elrond was surprised at the silence within. A few steps further he found Glorfindel looking intently at Legolas, who seemed to be profoundly uncomfortable in his seat. Was it merely the waiting for what he knew was to come that made the young Thranduilion so unhappy or had Glorfindel's words truly been that harsh?

At the sounds of their entry, Glorfindel turned around. "Hir nin", he started, surprising Elrond with the formality despite the familiar setting. "We have been waiting for you. I have already discussed his commendable quick thinking and utter failure to account for potential risks with the prince, but I thought it best for you to decide on any … consequences."

Elrond understood Glorfindel's predicament instantly.

From what Elladan had told him, Legolas' actions had saved them all. And yet, at the same time, the risky manoeuvre could just as easily have killed Glorfindel and his elves.

It was a risk that should not have been taken.

It was the only reason they were alive.

Elrond inclined his head in a nod, accepting the charge - accepting the duty of deciding whether Legolas should be punished or not. The young elf was clearly expecting it, if his desolate posture was any indication. Yet, Glorfindel, who never shied away from rebuking recruits that acted foolishly, did clearly not wish to do so. Without a doubt, he would have evaluated the situation differently if their fight against the orcs had not been so desperate. Outnumbered ten to one, their chances had never been good and it was only thanks to Legolas that all his warriors returned home to Rivendell this day.

Of course there was another thing to consider - the young elf was the prince of Greenwood, and Elrond knew that even his valiant seneschal did not relish the thought of angering king Thranduil.

It was a difficult situation, certainly.

Suppressing a sigh Elrond took a seat at the large table in the centre of the room.

"Legolas", he began, "thank you, for saving my son's life."

Legolas looked up at this, clearly caught off guard. "My lord, I did not –"

"You have done more than you know, Legolas." Elrond interrupted him and waved off the prince's protests.

After a short moment, he continued: "Now, Elladan has told me off what happened at the Bruinen. According to his words, your actions saved our lives, and for that, too, you have my thanks."

Legolas released the breath he had been holding in anxious anticipation. He had clearly feared stronger words. Elrond's next words, however, made him freeze.

"However, your actions also almost killed our defenders. They were reckless and ill-conceived – the actions of an elfling not prepared for the reality of fighting."

Legolas shrank back as if struck.

Doubtlessly, being considered unfit for real battle was a fear that the prince kept well hidden, but that ruled him none-the-less. His home was besieged by dark forces and he dreamt of fighting alongside his warriors at the front lines, of keeping the evil at bay.

All the more reason for Elrond to make sure he would not try something as reckless under less dire circumstances.

"It seems to me now"; Elrond continued, in a more kindly tone, "that your father's intentions to send you here to learn the basics of healing was a bit short-sighted." If possible it seemed that Legolas was still getting paler, the mere idea of his father learning what had happened in Rivendell a worse fear than even facing Glorfindel's scorn.

Elrond hurried to alleviate the young elf's fears.

"I suggest that you take additional lessons in strategy, beside your duties as a healer's apprentice." The prince's head whipped up at these words, clearly that was not what he had expected.

"I am certain", Elrond continued, "that Glorfindel would be delighted to instruct you and guide your undeniable talent."

Legolas remained silent, speechless, but Glorfindel gave Elrond a reassuring nod, indicating at the same time that he approved of Elrond's decision in this matter.

As the silence from Legolas continued, Glorfindel decided to add some more reassurance. "I am sure that you will make a great leader in the field one day, young Thranduilion."

Legolas' thoughts, however, seemed to still be straying in a different direction. "But", he ventured, silently, "my father …"

Thranduil had indeed forbidden his son training in the art of war before he completed his healer's training and Elrond understood the prince's dilemma. Legolas was not one to lightly disregard the orders of his father and king.

"Your father will have to be informed of what has happened of course." Legolas blanched, but Elrond continued, "however, I am certain he will agree with my assessment once I tell him that your quick thinking, from behind the front lines," he added additional emphasis to those words, "saved the life of the famous Balrog slayer of Rivendell."

Elrond managed to suppress the smile that teased at his lips, but he was sure that Glorfindel noticed his mirth and would demand retribution later.

Legolas, however, seemed truly relieved and, what was more, eager for the promised lessons in strategy. With a noticeable spring in his steps, the prince left the room, as soon as Elornd dismissed him, Elladan following not far behind.

And as their steps faded in the hallway, Elrond finally allowed himself to let his weariness take hold. Slumping slightly in the chair he sighed deeply. The day's activities had taken their toll, yet his sons and his young charge were save now. He could finally try to find some rest.

Glorfindel seemed to read his thoughts. "Wine?"

"Yes."

\- The End -


End file.
